


Beautiful

by orphan_account



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Roman needs a fake date, and fast.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> hey giftee!! i hope you enjoy your gifts :)

"You want me to _what_?"

"Believe me, I'm not enjoying this either," Roman spat.

_Okay, not the best approach to get someone to help you out._

Judging by Virgil's scathing glare and crossed arms, that was an accurate assessment of his persuasive skills thus far.

"Uh, sorry-" Roman hastily back-pedalled. He smoothed down his designer jacket as his pristine hi-tops tapped furiously against the linoleum floor of the hall. "Look. I know we're not the best of friends-"

He scoffed and in turn, Roman took a slow, steadying breath. If he murdered Virgil, who would accompany him to the family party?

"- _But_ I'll pay you. Two hundred dollars."

"I don't want your money," he not-so-subtly rolled his eyes, "Now if you're done wasting my time-"

"Three hundred."

The taller boy stared at him blankly.

" _Four_ hundred. Wait!" he implored Virgil, who was in the middle of walking down the hallway and away from him. He turned back slowly with an arched brow, icy blue eyes narrowed and scrutinising. Roman found that he was nervous, a strange and altogether foreign sensation for someone who didn't normally struggle with people. "I... I, um."

"Yes?" Virgil's impatient stare was not helping him at all.

"I'll do you a favour. A-anything you want." Roman knew this was a bad idea. Who knew what that psycho would ask for? But desperate times, as they say.

Virgil paused. "Anything?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he snapped.

" _Fine_."

***

  
"Why am I doing this again?"

"You can't wear a _hoodie_ to a formal event," Roman adjusted his tie in the mirror as the tailor wrapped measuring tape around Virgil's forearms.

"If I knew all this bullshit would be involved, I wouldn't have agreed," he muttered under his breath bitterly.

"Quit whining." Roman thumbed through a rack of blazers while the tailor instructed Virgil to raise his arms. He begrudgingly obliged. "Andy, you didn't tell me that Remy got in the wine-reds!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah-he ordered them for you especially." Andy lowered Virgil's arms and scribbled down the last of the measurements. "Okay, time to pick out a suit."

Virgil's critical eyes swept over the racks and racks of blazers, ties, shirts and trousers that cluttered the spacious backroom before his sharp features twisted into a confused frown.

"They all look the same." His voice was blunt.

Silence fell.

Andy froze with his hand on a hanger, whipping his head round to Roman-who was sucking in a sharp breath with fire blazing in his eyes. Before the tailor could say anything at all, the words were flying out. Roman's arms gesticulated all over the place as a plethora of _"how dare you"_ s and _"the audacity-"_ s spilled from his lips. Virgil watched his impassioned speech with wide eyes, staring at the flush in his light brown cheeks and the way his suit was hugging his body and realising that he'd never really... _looked_ at Roman properly before. But honestly, so what if his dark chocolate eyes were shining with passion? So what if Virgil caught the slight dimples in his cheeks when he was highlighting the differences in the properties of cotton suits and velvet ones? You could dislike someone and find them attractive. This whole endearing (one may even dare to say _cute_ ) enthusiasm toward mens fashion was _not_ changing his mind about the boisterous, loud, _irritating_ Roman Sanchez Garcìa.

"Okay, okay!" Virgil interrupted just as he was launching into inside pocket variations. He pointed at the suit blazer nearest to him, a black one that was a checkered purple on the inside. "That one."

Roman opened his mouth before slowly closing it again.

"...Tasteful."

He stared at Virgil for a moment before breaking eye contact tersely, "Andy, have the adjustments ready for tomorrow morning, please."

Then he was gone.

***

  
Virgil decided that Roman was sitting too close. He smelled too nice as well. Was that weird to think? It felt weird to think. And why was he acting all quiet and gentle while teaching him conversation starters? It was weirding him out. Why else would his stomach be flipping...?

"Uhhh, can you back up a bit?" he finally requested.

Roman, who'd been leaning over Virgil's lap to point at one of the words on his flashcards, stared up at him. His brown eyes were wide, covered slightly by the curly lock of hair that fell into his face. Colour rushed to his cheeks and he hastily averted his gaze as he shot back on the library's couch and scooted away.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean to invade your personal space–that's just... not really a thing, in my family." He scratched the back of his head, keeping his eyes fixed pointedly on anywhere but Virgil's bright red face.

"It's fine, I just couldn't read the, um," he sucked in a breath, "the flashcard."

"Right. You definitely need them, Mr. Doom and Gloom."

It was half-hearted, but it was familiar. Virgil liked familiar things. Things that weren't suits and puzzling flashcards and pretty boys who made him confused and like he wasn't good enough and needed changing and–

"Did you write these? Your handwriting's _atrocious_."

Roman balked.

"Hey! How dare you–"

***

  
Roman was trying to teach Virgil etiquette. Really, he was. But he was being _so difficult_.

"What did I just say about slouching?" Roman asked exasperatedly.

"Sorry, I can't help being exhausted," he rubbed his eye with a yawn.

 _Cute_ , Roman's brain unhelpfully supplied.

"Have you been sleeping?" his tone was very careful as he inspected the dark bags under his cold blue eyes.

Virgil shifted, "Why?"

"I'm concerned."

He scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure you are."

"Wh–"

"I was up all night trying to figure out your dumb flashcards." If Virgil were being honest, he'd have said _freaking out about our fake date_. But he didn't. Couldn't.

Roman tsked. "They're really not tha–"

"I'm done! I don't care about suits or cutlery or conversation starters!" he exploded suddenly, "Stop–stop trying to change me! I don't need to be fixed, or improved or–or whatever."

Roman took a shocked step back. Virgil's words hung in the air between them, uncomfortable and stifling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like, like I thought you weren't... I'm sorry," he mumbled earnestly.

And his dumb brown eyes just looked so sincere.

"Just–forget it. After the dancing lesson and the stupid date, we're _done_. Alright?"

"Alright," Roman responded quietly.

***

  
"Before we do this, I want to apologise to you. Properly." Roman looked determined, which was dangerous.

Virgil's fingers were agitated as they fumbled with his hoodie strings, tugging at them, tying and untying them, twisting them. He huffed.

"You don't have to."

"Please?"

There were those stupid, shiny, chocolate brown eyes again.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"I'm _so sorry_ , Virgil. I didn't mean to make you think you needed to change. I know I tease you a lot, like calling you Charlie Frown, and Emo Nightmare, and Jack Smellington–"

"Roman."

"But you're... I don't know." He looked sheepish. "You're just... amazing. You're smart, and you can do karate, and you're funny, and you have nice... hair. I probably make fun of you because I'm jealous? I think. I don't know. God, I sound so stupid right now... Oh! And–and you don't have to learn the waltz with me, if you don't want to. Or even go on the date. I don't want you to resent me or feel forced."

Virgil did not know what to say.

"Um. Thanks...?" he cringed at himself, "And I'll still go on the date, or whatever."

When Roman's face broke into a huge, bright smile, Virgil pretended his heart didn't skip a beat.

***

  
"I don't know what to do."

"That's okay."

The two of them were facing each other in a too clean dance practice room with floor to ceiling mirrors surrounding them, reflecting their insecurities and nervousness right at them no matter where they turned. They'd done their stretches, (or rather, Virgil had not-so-subtly watched Roman-who was still very annoying!-contort his offensively flexible body into all manner of splits and stretches) and were now about to practice the waltz.

"Just do it," Roman instructed. But it was quiet. Tentative. He hesitated a moment. "... If you want to. No pressure."

Virgil stared at him. There was something so fragile, so vulnerable slating the edges of Roman's voice that he couldn't help but slowly, ever so slowly and ever so gingerly, take Roman's soft hand and lightly place his hand on his shoulder. They were close now. Achingly so. Roman pressed his right hand around Virgil's waist.

"Is this okay?"

_More than okay._

"Uh huh," they both acted like they didn't hear the way his voice cracked.

"You only need to know the basics," Roman said. His voice was low and his breath was hot against Virgil's ear.

Not that he noticed.

"I step back, and you step forward. Just follow my lead, and relax." Roman offered him a reassuring smile. Weirdly, it helped.

And so they started dancing. Virgil followed Roman's lead, trying to match his pace and not stumble. Thankfully, the taller boy went easy on him, mentioning when he was going a bit slowly or was too stiff, but it lacked the bite it'd had before. They felt more constructive instead of insulting. Virgil appreciated it. It made him feel less useless at all this fake dating stuff.

"Well done!" Roman grinned at Virgil after their lesson, running his hand through his fluffy brown hair as his tanned skin glistened with sweat. Some of his curls stuck to his forehead from the sweat, and his shirt was a size too big and his sweatpants swung low off of his hips. It would be absurd to find him attractive in this breathless, sweaty, smelly state. And yet...

"Uh, thanks," Virgil muttered, looking away, "I didn't know you could dance like that."

Roman chuckled, "I suppose you're not that into theatre, huh?"

"Nope. How could you tell?"

He laughed brightly and openly, and Virgil swore his heart swelled. Yup. He definitely had a crush on Roman.

 _Crap_.

***

  
Roman had yet to see Virgil in his suit.

He was comparing two black ties (a four in hand necktie and a seven fold tie, to be precise) when Virgil finally emerged from the dressing room.

"How do I look?" he'd asked.

"Hmm?" Roman lowered the ties a d glanced over at him, and froze.

Golden beams of sunlight were streaming from a large window of the third floor of the boutique, casting Virgil in an almost ethereal glow. They made his skin warmer, and his eyes shine in a way Roman had never really noticed before. The suit was tailored perfectly, and despite how awkwardly Virgil was standing, he looked... _beautiful_. He looked beautiful. Of the thousands upon thousands of words Roman had at his disposal, that was the only one his awestruck mind could cling to.

Beautiful.

"Roman?"

"Huh?" Roman's gaze lingered a moment longer before he shook himself. He cleared his throat, "Good. You look... nice."

"You really think so?" Virgil smiled tentatively.

"Yeah." Roman smiled. _I want to kiss you._

He coughed.

"Alright, I'll change at home. Do you need a lift?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Oh!" Roman walked up to him with a dark red tie in hand, presenting it to Virgil carefully, "This is your tie. It'll match my suit, and my tie will be black to match yours. To, you know, sell the whole fake dating thing."

Virg tried to hide his wince at "fake dating" and gingerly took the tie into his hands. There was a fraction of a moment where their fingers touched, and the way Virgil's brain pretty much melted told him all he needed to know about how smitten he was. How had this happened? He'd found Roman insufferable a mere week ago.

But, he supposed, that was before all the soft smiles, fond glances, _waltzes_ –

"Thanks. That's a cool idea. I'm gonna go change..."

"Right. Yeah, okay, cool. Um... text me your address and I'll pick you up?"

"Yeah."

"... Yeah. Uh, bye!" Roman gave him an awkward half wave before turning away. Virgil watched his back retreat and the gentle click of the door behind him before his eyes found the tie. He stroked the soft fabric, unable to stop the small smile that slipped onto his face.

***

  
Virgil had never sat in the back of a Rolls Royce before. Until now, that is. Honestly though, he didn't really care. He knew Roman was a bit... extra, sometimes.

"You rented out a Rolls Royce for this?"

"Rented?" Roman glanced up from fidgeting anxiously with his tie.

"Yeah. Rented."

"Uh... how are you feeling?"

Virgil shrugged, "Could be better."

He watched the nightscape rush past. The luminescent shop signs, the bright streetlights, the tall, glittering skyscrapers. Then he watched as it gradually faded away, into rolling hills and forestry, without a single shop in sight.

"You're not gonna kill me, are you?" Virgil asked, half-joking, half-nervous.

Roman looked alarmed, "What? No! We're going to my house..."

"Is your house in the ass crack of nowhere?"

"Heh, yeah."

There was a stretch of silence.

"Hey, Virgil?"

"Hmm...?"

"Um... When you see my house. Promise not to see me differently, please?"

"Do you live in a brothel or something?"

"No."

"Oh my God, you totally do!"

Roman laughed, spitting something out in reply, and just like that they were back to their old routine. That is, until the chauffeur cruised up to the biggest wrought iron gate that Virgil had ever seen. A gate that led to the biggest house he'd ever seen. It was massive, all sleek white walls, a swimming pool, front lights, a fancy garden with rose archways and shrubbery and a little pond, and trees. There were, like, seven floors, Virgil could just about see a guest house...

"That... is not a brothel," Virgil mumbled. He felt a bit sick.

"Uh... no?"

"I can't do this," he said quietly. "Now I see why you wanted to change me. I can't do this–"

"Hey, hey, hey. Patton and Logan will be there, too. You're friends with Patton, right?"

"Patton Hart?"

"Yeah."

The tension in Virgil's shoulders uncoiled slightly, "Yeah."

Sure, Patton was stupidly rich, but he was Virgil's best friend.

"Thank you, Emile," Roman smiled at the chauffeur who'd opened the door for him as he emerged from the sleek, black car before whispering something in his ear.

Virgil was about to open his own door when it was done for him.

"Oh! Thank you... Emile, was it?"

"Nope," replied a familiar warm voice.

Virgil glanced up to see Roman's toothy grin and shining eyes focused right on him.

He coughed with halting breath, "Uh, thanks Roman. And, thank you, Emile."

The latter had been watching them with a fond, knowing smile on his face. He nodded in acknowledgement before getting back in the car. As he drove up, Virgil got a bit closer to Roman.

"Are you okay?" he murmured as he laced their fingers together.

Even with anxiety throbbing in his chest, his heart stuttered.

"I'm... fine. No, no I'm not."

"Is this okay?" Roman swung their hands, "It's just that it needs to look like we're on a date."

"Y-yeah, it's fine."

By fine, he meant the only thing keeping him from a breakdown.

"We can stay outside as long as you need."

Why did he have to sound so freaking _gentle_?

"No... let's go."

So they did.

***

  
There were so many people. Of all different heights, races, genders, all conglomerated in this massive hall. Virgil squeezed Roman's hand harder. It probably hurt, but he wasn't complaining if it did. Virgil stared at the white marble pillars and their golden, flowery embellishments to distract himself, sidling up even closer to Roman.

"It'll be okay," Roman whispered in his ear, and a shiver shocked down his spine, "An hour or two and you can go home."

Virgil nodded shakily.

"Let's find my parents," Roman suggested.

He started walking into the throng of people, and Virgil was as close to him as he could possibly be. All the while, Roman murmured sweet little assurances to him. Virgil focused on those as they maneuvred the different groups of people, all holding cocktail glasses and sporting curious glances at the pair. He shrank away from them.

"Virgil? Hi!"

Virgil stumbled to a stop, trembling as he turned to see the familiar freckled face of Patton. It was weird to see his blond hair so perfectly styled when it was normally a wild mop on his head. He had Logan by his side. Seeing his gelled hair was less of a surprise. In fact, it wasn't one at all. Logan was always impeccably groomed. Patton threw himself at Virgil, engulfing him in a hug that didn't overwhelm him like he'd expected it too. Instead it made him feel warm and safe, and he clung back.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"N-no. Too many people..."

Patton nodded. He locked eyes with Roman, mouthing _"Get_ _him_ _out of here."_ before pulling away with a radiant smile.

"Logan and I will be by the buffet if you need us!" one last dazzling smile, and the pair were off.

Roman tugged at Virgil's hand.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry. Don't worry about meeting my parents or whatever, we can see them later. C'mon."

And then he was leading him out of a side door, away from the dizzying crowd.

After a lengthy walk through a plethora of hallways, staircases, side doors and halls, they were in a small garden. It was dark and quiet, just how Virgil liked things.

"Th-thank you," he smiled, still shaking, only now because of the cold. It had been warm in the hall, so a server had offered to take his jacket from him, but now it was _freezing_.

"Hey, are you cold?" Roman didn't wait for his response before he was slipping off his cherry red jacket and draping it over the taller boy's shoulders. He was only taller by like, two inches, but Roman would never admit it.

"Thanks."

They were sat on a bench with a flowery arch over it, staring up at the starry sky as moon beams surrounded them with weak, shimmery light. Virgil could breathe easier now. He glanced at Roman, only to see that he was already staring at him. He was going to have to stop with those soft glances, Virgil's heart couldn't take it.

"Virgil," Roman said. Very quiet, but earnest.

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"I want to kiss you."

Virgil blinked. Once, twice. Had he heard correctly? His heart was thudding too hard in his chest to tell.

"B-but, I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you because you're tied and anxious and stuff."

Roman continued his nervous rambling a d Virgil just stared.

"And th–mmph!" Roman was about to say something else, but Virgil decided that he _had_ heard correctly, and he very much wanted to kiss him too.

Roman's lips were really soft. And he still smelled good. And that was still weird to think.

When Roman pulled away, their foreheads were still pressed together.

"So you like me back...?"

Virgil huffed a laugh, " _Yes_ , Princey."

Roman grinned.

"Princey? That's a new one."

"You owe me a favour."

"Oh, yeah, I do."

It was Virgil's turn to grin.

"Kiss me again."


End file.
